


Smells Like Feet

by ermengarde



Category: Bandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-02-01 07:02:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21429523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ermengarde/pseuds/ermengarde
Summary: For the prompt: Mikey and Pete are partnered for a summer camp survival challenge where they share a tent and a mutual disdain for this activity and each other.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 9
Collections: No Tags Fall 2019





	Smells Like Feet

**Author's Note:**

> The mods for this challenge are wonderful and I love them.

Pete doesn't know what he's done to deserve this absolute bullshit. Like. Okay, so, he knows that sometimes he can annoy his parents or whatever, but what the actual fuck? He's been getting all his extra energy out at soccer, so he's not a fidgety mess any more, and he's not been brought home by the cops for, like, _weeks_ at this point. 

Camp Damariscotta. Even the sound of the name makes Pete want to shudder. First, it's in fucking _Maine_, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the _woods_, and second, its entire point seems to be killing its guests. Like, he's sat through a slide show (honestly, who still has slides? Is this the dark ages?) on Maine's deadliest animals, and they _said_ that the snakes are mostly non-venomous, and _then_ they said that actually ticks are the most deadly thing, but they've got bears and _moose_ (mooses? Either way great big fuck off megafauna). A moose could totally fucking gore him and turn him into goo. Pete does not trust anything they tell him (but he does still tuck his pants into his socks. He does not want any blood suckers feasting on him, nope. No way).

Even if the wildlife doesn't kill him, he's pretty sure the guy who he got paired with to do his survival induction overnight will. Apparently it's not a _real_ survival overnight, because they get dinner before they go (so no food to attract the bears), but Pete has to share what looks like a tiny fucking tent with this douchebag who won't even _speak_. Plus they've been standing looking at the tent where it's unfolded on the ground for twenty million years and the guy hasn't done _anything_ other than do something with his ridiculous bird's nest of hair and shove a beanie back on over it...

It looks exactly the same as it did before the guy messed with it, except now his bangs are in two fucking weird pointy bits down over his face. Pete huffs and picks up the tent poles. It's supposed to be easy to assemble, and there are apparently only two poles, but they need to be screwed together or something, because right now they've got two sets of multi-part nunchucks joined together with a cord. Pete starts trying to make them into... actual poles. The other guy just stands there. Staring. 

"Could you..." Pete gestures at the mess of plasticky fabric on the ground. "Like, try and lay that out or something?" Pete's not used to being the practical one. He doesn't like it. This camp is the fucking _worst_.

"Umm," the guy says, but he leans down and picks up one corner of the tent and kind of waves it around. Pete has been paired with the _worst camper of all fucking time._

Pete grabs the tent off the guy and starts shoving the poles into the two channels in the fabric. It's beginning to get dark and he is _not_ sleeping out here in the dead of night, not right now. The woods are strange and quiet and this guy is beginning to creep him the fuck out. He knows he's getting kind of antsy and rough with what he's doing but seriously what the fucking fuck. 

"You're going to rip that," the guy says. 

"_Seriously_? Seriously dude, you stand there like a creep and don't help and the first fucking words you say to me are to tell me I'm _doing it wrong_?" Pete is suddenly furious. Who the fuck is this guy. 

"You didn't say anything to me, either," the guy says. "Except to be bossy. If I wanted to be bossed around I could just have stayed home with my brother."

"Why the fuck didn't you?" Pete knows he's gone a bit hyper on the guy, but seriously. Creepy woods, creepy dude, fucking tent. It's not surprising he's feeling so much right now. 

The guy shrugs. "Got sent here." 

Pete shouts "Ha!" And flings the tent on the ground. He's not really sure what he _means_ by that, but it feels right in his mouth, so he's going with it. 

The guy picks it up again, and kind of flicks it out with his wrist and it forms a dome shape. "It's like they showed us in the slide." He nods at the tent. "We just need to hammer the pegs into the loops." 

Pete's going to fucking hammer this guy's _face_. 

"Or you can just stand there if you want." The guy shrugs again, bends down and picks up a packet of metal u shaped things, then starts trying to kind of kick one of them into the ground over the loops in the tent fabric. 

"Fuck you." Pete grabs the pegs from the guy and a rock from the ground and gets to hammering. It's surprisingly satisfying, except when he accidentally hammers his thumb. 

"That'll make playing difficult." The guy nods at the thumb Pete current has stuck in his mouth. 

"Whathfu?" Pete garbles. 

"I saw the calluses. Playing when you've got an injury sucks." The guy shrugs one shoulder, turns, grabs both of their packs off the ground and puts them into the tent. "I'll set up the mats and sleeping bags." 

Pete manages to get the rest of the tent hammered in without damaging himself any more than he already is. The guy is sitting in his sleeping bag when Pete crawls inside the tent. The tent is definitely not big enough for two people.

"This is _not_ comfortable." The guy says. "And it's dark. And it smells like feet." 

It does smell like feet, but the guy's taken his boots off so Pete kind of thought that was where the smell was coming from. 

Pete takes off his boots, too, which doesn't improve the smell, and wriggles into his sleeping bag. The camping mat that they've been given is so thin that it might as well not be there at all. "Are we set up on top of every rock and tree root in this entire forest?" 

"Yeah." 

Pete tries wriggling a bit to ease into a space in the ground or whatever but it doesn't help at all. He wonders how the guy's doing... he looked like his ass would be super bony. "I'm going to be black and fucking blue in the morning." Pete grumbles. 

"And not in the good way," the guy mutters. 

Pete snorts out a laugh, almost against his will. 

The guy reaches into his pack and pulls out a flask. "Hi," he says. "I'm Mikey. Do you want a drink?" 

"Hi," says Pete. "I'm Pete." 


End file.
